


something about us

by hopelocklet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sirius Black Lives, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelocklet/pseuds/hopelocklet
Summary: It's just Harry Potter's luck that at age fifteen he would fall in love with the son of a man who wants to kill him. Of course. Of course that's how it happens, because he's Harry Potter, and fate has been working against him since he was an infant. Still, star-crossed as they may be, Harry and Draco refuse to give up their relationship, even if it threatens their lives (well, threatens their lives more than their lives are already threatened on a regular basis). Thank God for wise, gay, hot godfathers who stay alive to help out the dramatic teenagers.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 26
Kudos: 76





	1. the train

**Author's Note:**

> this is my quarantine WIP... be nice and I will continue it  
> jk I will finish it anyway because I have nothing to do for the next month

**September 1st, 1996**

“You go on,” Draco told Pansy, barely sparing a glance toward her outstretched hand. “I just want to check something.”

Pansy left. Harry and Draco were now totally alone in the compartment. Draco closed the blinds on the compartment door to prevent the students scurrying down to the platform from seeing in. Then, he turned and sat on the bench opposite of Harry’s place on the luggage rack. He looked right up at him, though Harry knew he was still hidden from sight under his cloak. That knowledge didn’t prevent his breath from catching. Draco knew. He had to. How could Harry be stupid enough to think that no one would notice him?

“So, are you going to come out, or do I have to pull that ridiculous cloak off of you myself?”

Harry sighed. He threw the Invisibility Cloak to the compartment floor and jumped down after it. He stood in front of Draco, who was looking infuriatingly smug with a little amused smirk on his face. Harry wanted to kiss it away.

“I know you don’t have much respect for Slytherins, but did you honestly believe that we’re daft enough to not notice the bright white trainers suddenly floating in the air?” Draco gave a pointed look to Harry’s feet.

“Well, it didn’t seem to alarm any of the others,” Harry noted. “I guess you’re the sharpest of the group.”

“Well, obviously, Harry, and thank God for that, otherwise I would’ve had to hex you when my friends found you out.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “‘Cause we all know how much you _hate_ doing that.”

“It’s not the hexing I hate so much as your demands that I grovel for your forgiveness afterwards.”

“I don’t make demands! You’re the one who goes ‘Harry, I’m so sorry for that. I just had to because there were people around. Please, Harry, let me blow you and make up for it—’” Harry said, imitating Draco’s puppy-dog-begging-tone which he had heard many times before.

“Alright! Alright! That’s enough of that, Potter,” Draco interrupted, his face now flaming red. He looked down at the floor rather than up at Harry’s face.

Harry smiled fondly and reached down to pet Draco’s blushing cheek. 

“It’s okay, Draco,” he said gently. “I missed your begging.”

Draco smiled and huffed a small laugh in spite of himself. “Stop it,” he said quietly, with no force behind it.

“I missed everything about you, actually,” Harry said. It was true. He hadn't even been able to write to Draco this past summer, as they both knew it was too dangerous. He missed Draco's face and body and physical presence, of course, but he also missed Draco's mind—his words and his sarcasm and his precious confessions of love which he rarely gave out. He knew Draco got flustered when Harry was so honest about his feelings, which was partly why he did it. Draco looked up at Harry, a challenging look in his eyes.

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Draco asked, raising one blond, manicured eyebrow.

“This.”

Harry grabbed Draco by the arm and pulled him up from the seat so they were standing chest to chest in the small compartment. Harry had the fleeting thought that he was glad he still had an inch on Draco before he dived in for a kiss. Draco responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around Harry’s torso as soon as Harry released his grip on Draco’s arm. Harry held Draco’s head and held his waist. They kissed as if they had been apart for years, and honestly, for Harry, it felt like it had been. 

Eventually they had to pull back to breathe. Harry stared at Draco’s bottom lip as he panted, fascinated by how red and kiss-swollen it appeared. Then he looked up at Draco’s eyes, and he nearly broke down; the boy looked at him with so much earnest trust and love. He pulled Draco back, just to hug him. Draco melted in his embrace.

“I missed you,” Draco confessed, sounding like he was about to cry. “I missed you, and I love you, and you have no idea how much I wish I could’ve just talked to you every day. It’s been so hard, Harry. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Harry’s heart almost stopped, and he abruptly remembered why he had been so worried about Draco in the first place, worried enough to sneak into his compartment to check on him. Borgin and Burkes. Draco’s left arm. He dropped their embrace. 

“Draco, what happened? What did they do to you?” Harry asked seriously. He held Draco by his shoulders. Draco wouldn’t look him in the eye, and that scared him.

“It’s not so much what they did to me as it is what they’re going to make me do,” Draco said.

“We’ll fix it. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

Draco met Harry’s eyes and gave him a watery smile. “You’re such a Gryffindor,” he said fondly, despite the fear in his eyes. “But it’s bad, Harry. It’s really bad.”

“I don’t care, Draco. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

Draco pulled away from Harry completely. He walked over to the window, which still only showed the view of the dimly lit Hogsmeade station. Harry had the awful feeling that Draco didn’t believe him. 

“Harry, I have to show you something,” Draco said, staring out the window with a frightening degree of stoicism. 

“The mark,” Harry said immediately. Draco sucked in a sharp breath. He realized Draco probably thought that it would change how Harry saw him, which is why he pulled away. Harry rushed to assure him that was not the case. “Draco, I don’t care about that. We both knew this was a possibility last year. And I know—” Harry stepped over to Draco and turned him around with a hand on his shoulder. Draco was looking at him with those big, tear-filled, beautiful gray eyes. “I _know_ it wasn’t your choice. I’m sorry that it happened to you, baby.” Harry brushed away the few tears that escaped Draco’s eyes with his thumbs. “I still love you.”

“Thank you,” Draco said. He rolled his eyes and tried to blink away the tears. “This is stupid. Me crying is not going to help anything. And don’t give me any of that Gryffindor bullshit that expressing your feelings is good for you or whatever.”

Harry held up his hands in surrender. 

“I’m going to tell you what they want me to do now.”

“Okay,” Harry said calmly, forcing himself to hide his anticipation.

“They want me to kill Dumbledore.”

**December 25th, 1994**

Harry was stalking his way up to Gryffindor tower alone, still pondering over what Cedric had told him. Was it just Harry, or had it been almost _suggestive_ the way Cedric told him to mull things over in hot bath water? It was probably just Harry. Whatever. Harry didn’t need to think about that. He needed to think about the egg. The egg, right. Well, it was hard to think about the egg when there were the most awful slurping noises coming from a nearby alcove. 

Harry didn’t know what made him do it. Maybe it was the frustration about the tournament, maybe it was the confusing jealousy of seeing Cho and Cedric together that had his blood boiling. Whatever it was, it made Harry stop his journey to the tower. Something came over him and he wanted to take out his anger somewhere. He just so happened to choose the noisy couple in the alcove. He stomped right over to the alcove and impatiently muttered a “Lumos.”

What Harry saw shocked him. Draco Malfoy was slumped against the wall of the alcove, velvet dress robes in disarray. But it wasn’t Pansy Parkinson’s hands that were groping at his robes, and it wasn’t Pansy Parkinson’s lips attached to Malfoy’s neck. It was a tall, black boy, who Harry thought he could recall wearing Slytherin robes, but he didn’t know his name. The boy stepped back from Draco with a start as soon as Harry’s wand illuminated the couple. The boy’s eyes widened when he looked at Harry, obviously in shock. His own silver robes were slipping off his shoulders and Harry absentmindedly noted that the boy was handsome, with sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes. The boy said nothing, didn’t even look back at Malfoy, before he ran off, darting down the stairs and out of sight within seconds. Malfoy was still breathing heavily, leaning against the wall.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t know—I was just—” Harry stumbled over his words. He lowered his wand to his side, but kept it lit.

Malfoy looked at Harry blankly, a dazed look in his eye. Harry oddly felt a surge of arousal, which he ignored resolutely. Malfoy shook his head quickly, seemingly trying to clear his head. 

“I’ll just—I’ll just go then, I guess,” Harry said awkwardly, not knowing what else to do. He turned to return to his route to Gryffindor, but an anxious voice stopped him.

“No, Potter, wait,” Malfoy said. He looked like a mess. There was the disheveled hair and the rumpled robes, altogether making him look nothing like the Malfoy Harry was used to seeing. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” Malfoy said insistently. “My father would kill me, I swear. And it’s not like there’s anything to tell, really. Blaise is just a friend, and he doesn’t even know if he likes boys anyway, and this is never going to happen again. At least not in an unprotected alcove. But that’s beside the point. Just don’t tell, Potter, please. I’m begging you.” Malfoy was rambling, and it was hard for Harry’s brain to catch up.

“You like boys?” Harry said suddenly. And no. That was not what Harry meant to say. That was not what Harry should’ve said. 

“What?”

“You said Blaise doesn’t know if he likes boys, but you do know? And you do? Like boys?” Harry’s brain tried to get him to stop talking, really, but Harry’s mouth was not listening.

“What’s it to you, Potter?” Draco said, sounding defensive as his flushed face turned pink. “Going to go tell all of your Gryffindor friends that I’m a poof? Laugh at me in the Daily Prophet as some sort of sick revenge for all I’ve put you through?”

Harry shook his head vehemently. “No, no. Never. I’m not—I don’t know why I asked, Malfoy, sorry. Forget it. I won’t tell anyone. I’m not that kind of person. I’ll keep your secret.”

Malfoy sighed in relief. Reluctantly, he swallowed his pride and said, “Thank you, Potter.”

It was the first time Harry had seen Malfoy ever be truly vulnerable. Even when he was injured the previous year, there was always another layer to it, a layer of malice or deception. Now, though, Malfoy was looking at Harry with his big gray eyes and Harry realized he was trusting Harry. Trusting him with something very important, even. Harry nodded at him.

“Well, good night, Malfoy,” he said. 

“Good night, Potter,” Malfoy returned.

Harry turned again to continue up the stairs. He had made it a few steps when Malfoy’s voice stopped him again.

“And Potter?” Malfoy said. He waited for Harry to pause before continuing. “I do like boys.”

Lacking the Gryffindor courage to stay another moment, Draco fled the stairway before he could meet Harry’s gaze again. Heaven knows that would probably kill him.

Harry stood there, left behind on the stairs, confused and mildly intrigued.

**September 1st, 1996**

“Oh, we’re not telling the bloody Order, Harry,” Draco said dismissively, rolling his eyes. He was sat on the bench, crossing his arms as he watched Harry pace the small space of the compartment, making his annoyance obvious. Harry had been trying to convince Draco that they had to go to an adult for help for the past three minutes, and Draco was getting bored of constantly shooting down Harry’s ideas.

“We have to tell someone!” Harry insisted, raising his voice. 

“Actually, we have to not tell anyone. We can’t tell Dumbledore, especially not about Snape’s involvement. He’d just confront Snape, and who knows what would happen then. Nothing good, that’s for sure. Snape might kill Dumbledore on the spot to get the job done.”

“Dumbledore wouldn’t be so foolish. And it’s not right, letting him believe Snape is on his side still when we know about this.” Harry’s eyes pleaded with Draco. 

Draco shook his head definitively.

“Harry, no. Trust me, I’ve thought about this from every angle, and no matter what, someone ends up dead. Me, or Snape, or Dumbledore, or my parents, or even you, Harry. And I just can’t—I can’t be responsible for it, Harry, please, just—” Draco broke off. His eyes were once again full of unshed tears, these ones coming from a mixture of frustration and grief.

“I don’t want you to be responsible for anyone’s life either. We’re sixteen. We’re not supposed to be dealing with things like this,” Harry told him. He stopped his pacing and joined Draco on the bench, his shoulders hunched in defeat. “But that’s why we have to tell someone. What about Sirius, Draco? Just him? He could help us. Please?”

Draco huffed a breath of amusement. “Your hot uncle?”  
“Godfather,” Harry immediately corrected. 

Draco nodded almost imperceptibly. His eyes cleared as he thought it through more thoroughly. He looked at Harry. He was nervous, for some reason. He slid his hand up Harry’s arm and rested it on his shoulder.

“Harry, if we go to him for help together, we’ll have to explain, well, you know, us. Are you sure you want him to know about it? You’re really close, and I know Sirius has personal history with the Black family. I don’t want Sirius to be upset that you’re with me or something.” Draco bit his lip anxiously. 

“Draco, if it were safe for us, I’d want to tell everyone about us. I don’t care what people think about it, even Sirius. I doubt he’d be upset; he knows what it’s like to want to diverge from pure-blood expectations. If he is, I’ll fight him on it. I’ll tell him how wonderful and intelligent and brave you are and how much I love you.” 

Draco fell into Harry’s arms and tucked his head between Harry’s neck and shoulder. He placed a kiss on the underside of Harry’s jaw, and Harry smiled.

“Okay,” Draco relented. “You can tell Sirius. I don’t know how safe it is to write to him, but you have that mirror, right? That should work.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed. He squeezed Draco tighter in his arms. He knew they would have to leave the train soon, already terribly late for the Start-of-Term Feast. He wanted to treasure all the precious time he had alone with Draco before they had to go back to playing enemies again.

“And Harry?” Draco said tentatively.

“Yes, treacle?” Harry hoped to cheer up Draco with the use of the old pet name he gave him last year.

“I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise me that we’ll stay together, no matter what happens this year.” Draco tried to hide it, but Harry could hear the slight trembling in his voice. It broke his heart.  
“I promise, Draco.”

Harry pulled Draco into a kiss, and Draco met his lips with enthusiasm. He lay back on the bench and pulled Harry on top of him, so Harry’s body covered his own completely. The kiss turned deep and messy and intense quickly. Draco slipped his hands under Harry’s shirt and explored Harry’s back with his fingertips, relearning the body he’d been apart from for months. Harry leveraged himself with an arm resting on the bench beside Draco’s head as his free hand gripped Draco’s jaw firmly so that he could control the kiss. Harry felt himself hardening as his mouth slipped across Draco’s face and found the spot on Draco’s neck just below his jaw that made Draco moan when he bit it. Harry was working on forming a new love bite there when Draco started speaking in between panting breaths.

“Harry… how long… d’you think we have?”

Draco groaned when Harry finished off his love bite with a sharp bite. Harry pulled away to admire his work, then smiled down at Draco.   
“Oh, we have loads of time, I’m sure.” Just then, Draco rolled his hips firmly against Harry’s , and Harry gasped. “Not that we’ll need it,” Harry added. “I could probably come from just this.”

Maybe it was embarrassing for Harry to admit, but, hey, it had been a whole summer of sexual frustration and a depressing lack of Draco around to relieve him.

“Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to,” Draco said deviously. He smirked as he reached down and freed Harry from his trousers and pants.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

“You have, but I’m not stopping you from saying it again.”

“I love you. I love you. And I love your hands, fuck, Draco.”

**January 11, 1995**

After the incident, Harry didn’t really see any change in Malfoy. He was the same with his ceaseless bullying and standard better-than-you attitude. Harry tried to forget the boy he saw on the staircase Christmas night, the boy who was vulnerable and insecure and oddly alluring. He had almost convinced himself he imagined the whole ordeal when suddenly he found himself being yanked by the arm while on his way to meet Ron and Hermione in the Middle Courtyard. He was dragged into a nearby empty classroom, and he was about to take out his wand to defend himself when he realized he was face to face with Draco Malfoy. 

Malfoy looked about ready to jump out of his skin he was so anxious and jittery. 

“Potter,” Malfoy said simply, as if this was a normal thing for him to be doing, pulling his supposed worst enemy into an empty classroom for a quick chat.

“Malfoy?” Harry said. He was still on alert to pull out his wand whenever necessary.

“The egg. Your egg. Your clue or whatever. I found out what you have to do. You have to stick it underwater and listen to it—it’s supposed to sing to you or something.” Malfoy’s pretty eyes were wide and expectant, like he was waiting for Harry to shout ‘Eureka!’ and praise Malfoy for his shared wisdom.

“What?” Harry said. He honestly had no idea what was happening.

“Your egg. Put it underwater, and—” Draco spoke slowly as if he was explaining the instructions of a craft project to a toddler. Harry interrupted him before Draco could get any more patronizing.

“I’ve quite figured that out already, Malfoy.” Technically Harry hadn’t known about the underwater singing part, but Malfoy didn’t have to know that. “But why are you telling me this?”

“I’m helping you, obviously, Potter. Forgive me for thinking you’d need it, but let’s be honest, your last task was far from smooth.” Malfoy looked put out by Harry’s admission that he already understood the clue, and he crossed his arms petulantly.

“Okay, whatever, Malfoy. But why are you trying to help me in the first place?” Harry asked the question like it should be the obvious question to ask, because, of course, it was. In his mind the only way Draco Malfoy would ever offer him help was if he was held at wand point and threatened with wicked hexes to his perfectly-styled hair.

“You know, Potter. Don’t act like you don’t. You… protected me that night. You kept my secret.”  
“Malfoy, I didn’t expect anything in return for that,” Harry assured him. “You don’t owe me anything. I was just being a decent person.” _Not that you would know what that looks like,_ a voice in Harry’s head added.

“Well, fine then. If you want me to go back to being a bitch to you, then that’s fine with me. Stupid Potter. Can’t bring himself to take advice from a Slytherin, even if it could save his life. You know what, if you die in this task, you deserve it. You’re such a stuck up prat.” Draco spat the words, glaring bitterly at Harry.

Merlin, he was so defensive.

“No, Malfoy, no. That’s not what I meant. You don’t have to go back to being a bitch to me. I appreciate your advice, really. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to help me out just so I keep your secret,” Harry explained. 

Malfoy’s glare subsided for the most part.

“I know you’re not going to out me if I don’t help you. I know that much about your character, at least. But it turns out I’m not a horrible person either, Potter, as surprising as that may be to you. When people are kind to me, I return the kindness.”

Harry very much doubted that, and he didn’t believe that this singular act of amity somehow proved that Malfoy was in fact a good person at heart. But he could recognize the effort.

“Okay then. Thank you, Malfoy. That’s very, er, noble of you, I suppose,” Harry said. With Malfoy’s anger diffused and his purpose for being pulled aside fulfilled, Harry didn’t know what to do now. He just stood there, looking at Malfoy, who was looking back at him without any more malice, and once again Harry felt unsettlingly drawn to the other boy. He was, actually, kind of—well, kind of pretty, once you got past the haughtiness and general annoyance. 

“I feel like I should apologize.”

“Excuse me?”

“Apologize,” Malfoy repeated. “You still think I’m a horrible person, I can tell. So I’ll just tell you now that I’m sorry. For all the teasing and names and overall awfulness. I guess I can admit now that it was really just a flawed way of getting your attention. My own shitty version of pulling pigtails in the schoolyard or something like that.” Malfoy’s face was red by the end of his spontaneous apology, and when Harry didn’t respond right away, he lowered his gaze to the floor in between the two of them.

Harry was taken aback, literally stunned into silence. Malfoy was saying that all these years of being the most horrid, filthy scum of the earth was just a ploy to get Harry’s attention. Because, apparently, Malfoy had had a _crush_ on Harry? It was a lot of information to process. 

“I’m not trying to get with you or anything, Potter,” Malfoy said, his voice panicky and words rushed now. “I only told you so that you’d understand my perspective a little better. It’s not like I’m pining for you. I’m not. I’m really not.”

Harry still didn’t say a word. 

“Fuck, I really messed this up. I didn’t mean to make it seem like that—I don’t—I just want you to see me for who I am, Potter. I don’t like how shocking it is to everybody when I do something nice. And when I say everybody, I mostly mean you, of course. Not that everything is about you! My world doesn’t revolve around you, but—but for some reason it’s really important to me that you at least see the real me. I don’t know why. This is stupid. This whole thing is stupid. I’ll quit bothering you now, Potter.”

Malfoy scurried out of the classroom before Harry could form any words to tell him to stay.


	2. the walk to hogwarts

**September 1st, 1996**

As it turned out, Harry and Draco didn’t have as much time as they hoped they would, and after finding his release, Harry barely had time to refasten his trousers before the two of them had to bolt, as they felt the train beginning to move. They hurried down the corridor together and realized they’d have to jump off the slowly lurching train onto the platform. Harry jumped first, and when Draco followed, he steadied the other boy with two hands on his waist.

“That was certainly thrilling,” Draco remarked with a glance at the departing train. “Now you can say you almost missed your sixth year at Hogwarts because you were busy getting a handjob on the Hogwarts Express.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell everyone that. Spread it around. Then I’ll be famous for something other than my scar at least.”

“I think your hot uncle would be proud.”

Harry laughed again. He pulled Draco closer to himself and pecked him on the lips cheekily. “I’m sure he would be.”

Draco blushed and smiled. 

“Come on, we shouldn’t dawdle,” he said. He stepped out of Harry’s arms and looked around the platform. They were the only ones around, and all the carriages had already left. “I wonder how we’ll get to the castle.”

“Walk?” Harry said like it was obvious. 

Draco sighed. “How Muggle.”

Harry reached out and pinched Draco’s arm. For the last year or so, he and Draco had been working on building Draco’s appreciation for Muggles. He had really improved his perspective on certain issues, taking a special interest in Muggle medicine and technology, but sometimes he was still unfortunately quite disdainful. Despite that, Harry was proud of him for growing out of the rigid mindset his parents had instilled in him. Just from talking to Draco, Harry could tell Draco didn’t share any of the ideas his parents had about Muggle-born people, despite the way he acted toward them in front of other people who weren’t Harry. For one, Draco was open about his admiration for Hermione when he talked to Harry. He was impressed by Hermione’s intellect and level-headedness (“so rare for a Gryffindor” in Draco’s words). It seemed Draco had also grown fond of Dennis Creevey, another Muggle-born student, just from hearing Harry’s stories about him from the DA. 

“Oh, whatever, Harry,” Draco said. “What do you want me to say? How Stone Age of us? How park ranger of us? Honestly.” Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry just grinned. “Yes. Either of those will do.”

“Fine then, if we’re going to walk, we should start walking. Stop standing around smiling like a loon, Potter.”

Draco left Harry’s side and set off for the path leading to the school. Harry only hesitated a beat before following. They only made it a couple of meters into the dark lane, walking in the new carriage tracks left behind from the students who weren’t snogging their boyfriends on the train, when a figure approached the couple from behind with a lit up wand and a shout of “Oi, you two!”

Harry and Draco both turned, and Harry was relieved to see it was only Tonks. Wait. Maybe he should actually be worried that it was Tonks. She had just found him alone with Draco, after all. And Draco had a fresh love bite on his neck. And only moments ago he had kissed Draco out in the open on the platform. Not exactly discreet.

“Wotcher, Harry,” Tonks said when she caught up to them. “We’ve been looking for you two. You didn’t get on the carriages.”

“We?” Draco asked, sounding nervous. Harry refrained from grabbing a hold of his hand to calm him.

“Me and the other Aurors. There’s four of us stationed here now.” Tonks eyed Draco suspiciously. Harry hoped she wouldn’t catch sight of the little purple bruise on his neck.

“Oh,” Draco said. “Well, you see what happened is I was patrolling the train, you know, doing my job as a prefect and making sure all of the younger students knew where they were going.”

Harry tried not to let his jaw drop. Leave it to Draco, the great Slytherin that he was, to come up with a ridiculous fabricated story on the spot. Maybe Harry should’ve been worried about how easily Draco lied, but really it was rather useful and somewhat impressive. 

“Then I found Potter here trying to get off the train without his school robes on,” Draco continued. “Sloppy Gryffindors, I guess, but as I’m sure you know, it’s very rude to the janitors to leave one’s school robes in one’s compartment. Leave the compartment exactly as you found it, I always say.”

Harry held back a snort at Draco’s story. As if Draco had ever tried to help a first or second year find their way around or given a rat’s ass about leaving school robes on the train.

“I see. So you told Harry to put on his robes and he’s still without them because…?” Tonks said. 

And, well, that was a valid point. Harry had never made it back to his compartment to change into his robes after sneaking in his visit to Draco. Harry stumbled over his words, but it seemed Draco was prepared for this question as well.

“Careless as he is, Potter here couldn’t recall which compartment he had been in. Thus, an argument started, and thus our tardiness in departing from the train,” Draco explained succinctly. 

Harry rolled his eyes and didn’t bother to hide it. Draco spoke so prim and proper when he was talking to authority figures. 

“There he goes again,” Draco said accusingly with a sneer. Harry opened his mouth to protest, startled when he realized Draco was calling him out in the moment. “Rolling your eyes at me, really, Potter? Something wrong with the way I talk?”

Harry floundered for words for a moment, before he caught the look in Draco’s eyes. A glint of amusement, a reminder that this is part of the game they play when they’re around other people. Right. Harry had been caught off guard initially. He was months out of practice. Thankfully his mind caught up within a few seconds.

“Something is wrong with the way you exist, actually, Malfoy.”

Tonks snorted watching the interaction.

“We should be thankful it’s just your usual antics, I guess.” She waved her wand above her head and a large, silvery, misty jack rabbit materialized and hopped off into the dark night. “Come on, best we not dawdle.”

Tonks set off down the path, not pausing for Harry and Draco, assuming they’d follow. Draco began to, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm and a pointed look. 

“Episkey,” Harry whispered, directing his wand at Draco’s neck. Draco clasped his neck as the mark disappeared and blushed. He’d probably forgotten about it. Harry smiled, endeared, and nearly dared to lean in for a peck when Tonks called out at them again.

“Do either of you know the meaning of the word dawdle?” she shouted back at them. Then, a muffled “Fuck. Shit. Who puts a branch in the middle of the road?!” 

The couple hurried after her. 

“Was that a Patronus?” asked Harry when they caught up, recalling messages he’d seen Dumbledore send.

“Yes,” Tonks said. “I sent word to the castle that I’ve found you two so they don’t worry.”

“Ah, yes,” Draco said disdainfully. “I’m sure the entirety of the school’s occupants are absolutely distraught without their precious Potty.”   
“How disappointed they’ll be when he shows up, but without his school robes,” Tonks said.

Draco laughed in spite of himself, seeming surprised to find Tonks funny. It suddenly occurred to Harry that they were cousins, though of course not the usual bantering, teasing, playful sort of cousins. Not that Harry had much experience with friendly cousin relationships, but he assumed normal cousins were at least cordial. It was quite sad, Harry realized, watching as Tonks glanced at Draco with her own surprise evident. The two of them could have gotten along, even been friends, if it weren’t for Draco’s parents stupid philosophies concerning blood purity. Just another thing to add to the list of what Harry hated about Draco’s parents.

An awkward silence settled after Draco laughed. Normally the silence would be bearable, but now Harry’s mind was begging for a distraction as the hand at his side itched to reach out for Draco’s hand just a few centimeters away. Thankfully, Tonks was feeling up for small talk.

“So, how was your summer, Harry?” Tonks asked. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Harry flinched. What Tonks  _ meant _ was ‘Haven’t seen you since the night which was one of the worst of your life when your godfather almost dropped dead.’

“I’ve been alright. Spent some time with the Weasleys.”

“How are my boys Fred and George doing? I haven’t had the chance to visit their shop yet, but I hear it’s wicked.”

“It’s great, yeah. Impressive, fun, hilarious. They’ve got everything. Stuff to make you sick, stuff to make you smell, stuff to make people fall in love with you.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at that. “In need of a love potion, now are we, Potter?”   
Harry scoffed. “Maybe  _ you _ are. I’ll have you know that I have plenty of admirers.”

“Give me a list of their names and I’ll send them the information for a Mind Healer.”

“How very considerate of you, Malfoy.”

“I try.” Draco glanced sideways at Harry and smirked. 

“I see inter-house relations haven’t improved at all since my time at Hogwarts,” Tonks remarked. 

“Maybe they would if they Gryffindors weren’t such gits,” Draco said.

“Easy there, snake boy,” Tonks said. “I happen to like Gryffindors.”

Draco looked absolutely affronted to be called “snake boy” and Harry laughed. He asked Tonks to go on about what the houses were like in her time at Hogwarts, and she regaled them with ridiculous stories as they trudged their way to the school. Harry had never really appreciated just how helpful the carriages that carried the students all the way to Hogwarts were until this walk. He was getting tired and hungry and Draco looked to be the same.

Eventually they reached the gates, and Harry immediately moved to open them. Then he noticed they were chained shut. He then tried an “Alohomora,” but to no avail. Tonks frowned.

“Heightened security this year. There’s no way you’re getting in until someone comes to fetch you.”

“I could climb a wall,” Harry said.

Draco snorted. “I’d like to see you try, Potter.”

“I wouldn’t. They’re all jinxed by Dumbledore himself,” Tonks said.

Draco smiled wickedly. “Well, in that case, I’d  _ really _ like to see you try, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Sometimes Draco had too much fun antagonizing him. Oh, well. He’d get his payback soon enough. Maybe Harry would refuse to meet him at their usual spot on Friday night. Or better yet, maybe he would go, and then start giving him head, only to pull away at the last second before he came, just so he could hear Draco whine and beg. Harry met Draco’s eyes and smirked. Draco broke the stare and blushed adorably. 

Harry was so focused on Draco he almost forgot to look out for a professor on their way to help. When he did look up, he saw the glowing light of a lantern bobbing its way toward them. Harry was relieved, but the feeling was quickly replaced with disgust when he saw who it was. Severus Snape had appeared before them, uglier and greasier than Harry remembered him to be. Harry had never liked Snape, but especially not now when the man let his godson be marked and given an impossible task without interfering.

Without a word, Snape tapped the chains with his wand and the gates easily swung open. He scrutinized the group before him disapprovingly.

“Really, Draco, I expect this from Potter, but from you? Depressing.” Snape sneered.

Harry felt the need to defend Draco, and he was glad when Tonks saved him from embarrassment when she butted in before he could.

“That message was for Hagrid,” Tonks said.

“Unfortunately, Hagrid had no respect for the Start-of-Term feast either, and failed to show up on time just like Potter. I took the message instead. No need to worry, the children are safe with me.”

Harry felt like laughing at that statement. 

“Boys, come now,” Snape said, stepping aside so Draco and Harry could get in the gates. 

Harry went first, not without a glare at Snape, but Draco held back. He stood there, staring at his godfather with defiance and anger. Harry’s heart broke for him. Draco had trusted Snape once, even though Harry fought him on it near constantly. Now, Draco felt completely abandoned by all the adults who were supposed to protect him. Harry wished he could protect Draco all on his own and hide him from all the bad things in the world. But he couldn’t. But at least Draco had agreed to let Harry tell Sirius about the task and the mark. That had to help somewhat.

“Insolent brat,” Snape muttered, and he yanked Draco in by the arm.

Tonks raised her wand at Snape and the man scoffed. 

“Put that down, Auror. You look ridiculous. We won’t be needing your services anymore.”

At that, Snape turned dramatically and began walking, still pulling Draco by the arm. Harry felt such loathing for the man he could burst. He locked eyes with Tonks, who looked at him in sympathy, and Harry’s anger subsided enough to take a deep breath. 

“Goodbye, Tonks. Thanks for everything,” he said meaningfully.

Tonks nodded and gave him a halfhearted grin. 

“Cheers, Harry.”

Harry reluctantly left Tonks behind and followed Snape and Draco, who had finally gotten his arm away from Snape. Snape was whispering something decidedly negative to Draco when Harry caught up to the pair. When Harry joined them, Snape stopped scolding Draco, and instead spoke to the both of them.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness, I think,” Snape declared. “Actually, make that another twenty for your muggle attire, Potter. I’ll take no points from Draco as he was only trying to fulfill his job as a Prefect trying to get you to behave, Potter, I’m sure. I’ll award no points either, Draco, because you decided Potter was worth a waste of your time. Well, that makes seventy points from Gryffindor. And to think the Start-of-Term feast isn’t even over yet. You’ll have your work cut out for you to get Gryffindor to cheat its way to the house cup this year.”

Harry’s rage boiled in his chest and he felt the sudden urge to spit on Snape. He held back, but only barely. He wondered what Snape would do if he knew the real reason why Harry was late. How would he react to the news that one of his precious Slytherins, his own godson no less, had been snogging and humping Harry in a train compartment with no regard for punctuality? Maybe Snape would sputter and be at a loss for words. Maybe he would be so horrified that he wouldn’t be able to look at Draco or Harry again for the rest of his life. These thoughts comforted Harry in the midst of his fury. 

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Harry desperately wanted to throw his Invisibility Cloak over himself and sneak in discreetly. But that wouldn’t be fair to Draco and he doubted Snape would allow it.

“You go on in, Potter. Soak up all that attention from your dramatic entrance like you planned. I haven’t finished my chat with Draco here.” 

Snape looked away from Harry and set his focus on Draco before Harry even entered the hall.

“I think I’ll wait to go in until Malfoy can as well, professor,” Harry spoke up challengingly.

Snape frowned. “The fact that you think this is negotiable means you’ve learned nothing in your five years at Hogwarts, Potter. Leave now, or it’s another twenty points from your house.”

Harry glared, but when he glanced at Draco and the boy nodded at him, he sighed and accepted the situation. He entered the Great Hall without looking back at Draco, despite how much he wanted to.

**January 21st, 1995**

Harry was still reeling from Malfoy’s surreal confession when the boy next approached him. This time, Harry was in the library, already searching for a way to get through the second task. Hermione, who had been keeping him company while over-stressing about an Arithmancy assignment due the following day, had just left for a short break when Malfoy suddenly appeared. Harry felt his presence before he saw him, but he still felt a rush of shock run through him when he looked up at the boy who was now a mere meter away from him. 

“I need to talk to you,” Malfoy said seriously.

“Again?” Harry asked disbelievingly. He couldn’t understand this. Did Malfoy not realize Harry was already drowning in stress and fear over a thousand other things at the moment?

Apparently not, because Malfoy simply responded: “Yes.”

“Here? Now?” Harry didn’t think Malfoy would be willing to have what was certainly going to be a vulnerable conversation in the middle of the library. To be fair, there were only two students within viewing distance, and they were engrossed in their reading, but still.

“If that’s what you want,” Malfoy said. He was being eerily calm and cordial.  _ Probably because he’s had time to think through what he’s going to say to you. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you even think about this weird situation you’ve gotten yourself into. _

“I, um, I don’t know about that. Here. We’ll just—” 

Harry snatched the Invisibility Cloak from his book bag and grabbed Malfoy by the hand to pull him into a different, more secluded aisle of the library. When they were there Harry dropped Malfoy’s hand and pulled the cloak over the two of them.

“What’s this?” Malfoy said. “Potter, do you really have an Invisibility Cloak? That’s amazing! I’ve never seen one before, only read about them. Honestly this explains so much. This is how you get away with everything you do.”

Malfoy’s face lit up with excitement as he admired the cloak. Watching the other boy smile and gush, Harry felt an unfamiliar tickling in his stomach which he tried to stamp out. It definitely didn’t help how close the two of them were standing under the cloak together. Harry could feel Malfoy’s breath on his face and it was making him crazy.

“Yeah, er, I’ve had it since first year.”

“Merlin, you’re lucky. What I could’ve done with an Invisibility Cloak all these years,” Malfoy said.

“You’d probably be even better at torturing my friends and I,” Harry cut in bitterly.

Malfoy frowned. “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you, Potter.”

“To brag to me about how talented a bully you are?”

“No. No. I don’t—” Malfoy grimaced and shook his head. “I realize you probably didn’t believe my last apology, Potter. It was rushed and unplanned and then I screwed it all up by making it about myself and my stupid juvenile feelings.”

“You’re right. I don’t really believe it. I don’t even know what you were actually apologizing for. Just for teasing me? Calling me names and mocking me? You should know that’s not enough for me, Malfoy. If you want me to trust you or whatever—honestly I don’t even know what you want—you’ll have to be sorry for the way you’ve treated my friends. You called Hermione a Mudblood and laughed at the Weasleys for their economic status.” Harry scowled at Malfoy. When he said the awful things Malfoy had done out loud, it made it easier for him to hate him and ignore all the oddly charming things about him like his silvery eyes and his rosy cheeks. 

“I know. Potter, I know. I meant to explain all of that, but then I got off track. I wanted to tell you that I’ve changed.”

Harry snorted, and Malfoy’s face contorted in anger. His cheeks got pinker.

“I have changed,” Malfoy insisted. “I don’t think the way I used to, I swear. Think about it. Have you heard me insult Muggle-borns for their blood status at all this school year?”

Harry scoffed. “Yes.”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “Really? Give me an example.”

Harry racked his brain. He knew Malfoy must have degraded people for being Muggle-born. He must have, because that was his thing. Malfoy’s whole evil aura stemmed from his ideas about blood purity which he made obvious to everyone. But as Harry thought more and more, he couldn’t recall once this year that Malfoy had called anyone a Mudblood or blood traitor or anything of the sort. He had made fun of Harry and all of his friends, of course, but not on the basis of their blood purity. It was strange. When Harry couldn’t speak up, Malfoy smiled.

“I thought so,” Malfoy said. “I have changed, and you didn’t even notice. Blinded by your general hatred of all Slytherins, I suppose.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Malfoy stopped him.

“No, Potter, please. Just let me explain myself. I have to do this.” Malfoy paused for a beat, and Harry surrendered with a nod. Malfoy continued. “It’s not like it happened overnight. I know I just sprung this on you, but for me it’s not at all sudden. I’ve been changing a lot over the past year or so. I know this is going to sound sappy and fake, but it’s the liking boys thing that started it. Figuring that out was a process too, but once I did, I saw everything differently. It’s like before I had no idea what it really meant to be rejected by your peers. And now I’m not just scared of being rejected by my peers, but I’m terrified of my own family finding out. 

“The whole point of being Pureblood is that you’re supposed to keep the blood purity going. Marry a woman and produce heirs. That’s what my future is supposed to be. I mean, technically heirs aren’t out of the question for two wizards, but that’s not the point. Being gay is just not a thing in Pureblood society. So once I realized that Pureblood ideology is fucked up in that regard, I started wondering where else Purebloods got it wrong. Eventually I realized how shit the entire system is. Your blood status is something you’re born with, and you can’t change it. It just so happens that some people win the birth lottery and wind up being Purebloods. Being gay is something I was born with, and I can’t change it. It’s something my family would disown me for, or at the very least my father would. 

“And now that I’ve figured all this out, I regret everything. Or, okay, not everything. Some of my insults were clearly deserved, but when it comes to Muggle-borns—Granger, for instance—I wish I could take it all back.”

Harry looked at Malfoy for a long time. It was clear he was telling the truth. Harry could see the fear in his eyes when he talked about his family rejecting him. He didn’t know what to do or say for the longest time after Malfoy finished speaking. He had an urge to hug the other boy, but he definitely wouldn’t be doing that. The idea of hugging Malfoy was still too weird. Eventually Harry huffed out a breath and sighed.

“I don’t know what to say, Malfoy. I believe you, for what it’s worth. And I’m truly sorry for your family life. No one should have to live like that. I can’t forgive you for what you’ve said and done to Muggle-born people, because that wasn’t done to me. And still, you know, you are a bully, even if you’re not basing it on blood status—”

“Well, I’ve got to!” Malfoy protested. “I have a reputation. I live with Slytherins. If I act suspicious, they’ll catch on. They’re not as daft as you Gryffindors. And, well, I still—I don’t know. I want to fit in, I guess. They’ve been my friends since I was a child, and it’s not like if I lost them I’d have anyone else to go to.”

“It seems to me you’re getting along just fine with the Slytherins,” Harry said pointedly, remembering the Slytherin boy whom he’d seen sucking on Malfoy’s neck.

Malfoy’s face flushed. “That particular event is irrelevant right now, Potter.”

“I don’t get you, Malfoy. If that event is irrelevant, then why am I here? If I hadn’t seen that, then you wouldn’t have to keep pulling me aside to explain yourself, right? And at this point I don’t know what you’re getting out of it.”

“I’m not trying to get anything out of you,” Malfoy said defensively.

“Then why am I here?” Harry said, letting his frustration seep into his voice. “What do you want? Do you want my forgiveness? Do you want to be friends or something? I just don’t understand.”

“I don’t know!” Malfoy exclaimed. “I don’t know, alright? I just—I guess I want you to like me. I always have. I don’t know why I want you to like me, but I just do. It’s embarrassing. And the thing is, I know you won’t like me just because I tell you my sob story about how I’m gay and my family scares me. But I thought it might help you understand me. And maybe if you understand me enough, then there’s a possibility you could grow to like me.” Malfoy looked down at the floor between them. Their feet were almost touching. He shuddered, and Harry, afraid that he might try to bolt again, grabbed his wrist.

“Okay,” Harry said. “Okay. You want me to like you. I think I can wrap my head around that.” Maybe. In a few years. Or a few hundred years. In the moment, it was still pretty overwhelming. His fingers twitched against Malfoy’s skin.

Malfoy exhaled. The air felt heavy between them.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m a nuisance, and you’re probably working on your next task, but—”

Malfoy was suddenly cut off by Harry’s lips on his own. Once Malfoy’s brain caught up with the sudden turn of events, he eagerly kissed back. His eyes fluttered shut and he met Harry’s lips with equal pressure. Harry’s other hand landed on Malfoy’s hip, and Malfoy moved the hand that wasn’t restrained from Harry’s hand around his wrist to grab Harry’s bicep. He held on tightly. It was a real, firm, solid kiss. They both knew there was no way either of them could pretend the kiss didn’t happen when it ended. As it was, when the kiss ended, Harry leaned back in for another. But when that kiss ended, they just looked at each other, stunned. 

“I just wanted to know what it would be like,” Harry said as if that was a sufficient explanation, which it wasn’t. 

“Oh,” Malfoy said. He sounded somewhat disappointed. “How was it?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. He was too embarrassed to admit that it was his first kiss. “Good, I think.”

Malfoy nodded and swallowed hard. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. He dropped his hands from where they were on Malfoy’s body and Malfoy dropped his hand as well. “I, uh, I better get back to reading. I’ve got to figure out this thing for the tournament.”

“Right. Right. I knew that. I’m sorry I kept you,” Malfoy said, truly apologetic. 

Something in Harry’s chest tightened. He felt like this was the end of something, and what surprised him is that he found he really didn’t want it to be the end of whatever this was. 

“We can meet again later, yeah? Not to—I mean, to talk. Just talk. And I can understand you more. Maybe you could understand me too,” Harry said. His words seemed to stun Malfoy, but not as much as they stunned Harry himself. Meet Malfoy in secret again? He was losing his mind officially. Maybe the Hungarian Horntail actually had killed Harry and this was some sort of twisted afterlife.

“Okay, Potter,” Malfoy said with a shy smile. “I’d like that. I’ll see you around. Um, just don’t take it personally if I say I hope you die in the next task when my friends are there. I don’t really mean it. I actually hope you live.”

“Gee, thanks, Malfoy,” Harry said, unsure if he should be offended by Malfoy’s candidness. 

“Okay, well. I’ll leave first then.”

With one last look at Harry, Malfoy ducked out from under the cloak and left Harry behind as mystified as ever.

**September 1st, 1996**

Harry was having trouble focusing on both the pudding in front of him and the incessant questions from his friends about why he was late. He brushed off his friends and tried to make conversation about Slughorn even as he watched the doors of the hall to see when Draco would appear. Harry missed it when Draco did enter, as his friends directed his gaze to the staff table where Hagrid was waving at him. Harry realized Draco must have come in when he saw Snape take his seat at the staff table. He immediately looked to the Slytherin table and saw Draco smiling nervously at his friends as they fawned over him. Pansy Parkinson was attempting to fix Draco’s hair—Draco’s hair that Harry had messed up himself. He wanted to march right over and tell the girl to back off, but for obvious reasons that scenario would have to stay a fantasy in Harry’s head. Harry examined Draco’s face, trying to decipher what Snape had told him, but it was hard from such a distance. However, he did succeed in making eye contact with Draco. But when Draco looked at Harry, he didn’t smile or smirk or sneer like he usually would. Instead, his eyes were full of panic and fear. That settled it. Harry would call Sirius tonight. 

At some point, Harry realized Hermione was giving him a quizzical look. Oh. Maybe she’d said something to him? He had no idea how to respond, considering he hadn’t been listening at all. Thankfully, Dumbledore chose that moment to stand and deliver news to the students. Of course, that brought up the subject of Dumbledore’s marked hand. Hermione seemed highly anxious about it. Harry told her what he knew, which was just that he’d seen it earlier in the summer, and Hermione expressed her concern.

“There are some injuries you can’t cure,” Hermione said.

Harry frowned. He had always believed nothing could really harm Dumbledore, as illogical as he knew it was. 

Dumbledore went on to deliver the usual announcements, and then introduced Slughorn. But to Harry’s surprise, he was introduced as the new Potions professor.

“Potions?” Ron and Hermione said simultaneously. They looked at Harry disbelievingly. Harry just shrugged; he was just as shocked as they were. And anyway, how could Slughorn take over Potions when Snape was the Potions professor. Unless, of course, Snape was—

“Professor Snape, meanwhile, will be taking the position of the Defense of the Dark Arts.”

_ No. _

Harry didn’t notice that he’d said the word out loud until he saw all the students around him stare at him incredulously. Harry didn’t care. He was outraged. He glanced at Draco and saw the other boy rolling his eyes as the Slytherins surrounding him applauded. 

The rest of the feast was filled with Harry’s angry comments about Snape and Dumbledore’s long speech about school safety, emphasizing the dangerous times they were in. When Dumbledore concluded his speech with a much too cheery “pip pip!”, the students all left the hall in a noisy throng. Ron pulled Harry aside as they hung back from the rest of the crowd.

“So, what happened with Malfoy? You were both late,” Ron said.

“Typical Malfoy stuff. He was miffed that I wasn’t in my school robes or something. We got into an argument, you know how it is,” Harry explained, trying to be nonchalant.

“Did something happen? You were pretty late. Did you duel?” 

Harry shook his head. “No, it was nothing, really. It just took ages to get into the school with all this new security.”

Ron nodded, looking satisfied, but only just. “Did you confront him about Borgin and Burkes?”

“Er, no. It didn’t come up. Besides, I doubt Malfoy would fess up to all of his evildoings just because I asked.”

Luckily Ron dropped the subject, and the two of them stopped for a quick chat with Hagrid before heading to the common room. Harry went through all the usual motions of getting ready to go to sleep and slipping into his bed. He waited until he was certain that all of his roommates were asleep, which wasn’t long as they all drifted off as soon as their heads hit their pillows, exhausted from the excitement of the start of term, and then Harry snuck out to the common room with his mirror. 

Harry settled in an armchair in the common room and stared down at the mirror in his lap. He was very reluctant to use it; he had always thought that using it to speak to Sirius would lure him out of his hiding place. But, at this point, he’d seen Sirius nearly die and come back from the experience wiser and more level-headed. Sirius had not only managed to live, but also escape from anyone trying to put him in Azkaban and return to Grimmauld Place. Sirius seemed to recognize his luck, and he wasn’t looking for a chance to test his luck again anytime soon.

“Sirius Black,” Harry whispered at the mirror. 

Nothing happened. 

“Sirius Black,” Harry said again, louder this time.

Harry stared for a minute, maybe two, before he sighed in defeat. Stupid mirror. Maybe it lost its powers from so many years of disuse. But then, abruptly, there was Sirius. He was rubbing his eyes and grumbling and it clicked in Harry’s head that Sirius must have been asleep when he tried the mirror.

“Harry? Up late, are we?” Sirius didn’t sound happy about the fact.

“Sorry. As much as I’m sure you’d love being shown off to all of Gryffindor house, I’d rather wait until everyone’s asleep so we can talk in private.”

Sirius smiled. “How sweet. Are we going to gossip about your classmates’ summer romances? I do love a good story of young love.”

“Not exactly,” Harry said. “Actually, this is serious. And, um, some of it I expect will come as a bit of a shock to you.”

Sirius dropped the smile. “Is this about Voldemort?”

“Yes.” Harry inhaled deeply. “But before I get to that part, I have to tell you something first. Something big.”

“Okay,” Sirius said. Harry could hear him shuffling around, like he was sitting up or getting out of bed. “Go on, Harry. You can tell me anything.”

“I—Well, I kind of—No, not kind of. I do. I definitely do, but I may have failed to mention it before?” Harry stammered nervously. Earlier, with Draco in his arms, Harry had imagined it would be easier to confess to their relationship. Now, he was at a loss for words. 

“You do what, Harry? Come on, spit it out. I doubt it will surprise me. There’s very little I haven’t done in my own life.” Sirius gazed at Harry through the mirror with sincerity and sympathy. Fuck it. Harry would just say it.

“I have a boyfriend,” Harry said. He felt a weight disappear from his chest. There. That wasn’t so hard to say.

Sirius raised his eyebrows at Harry. “A boyfriend? A… secret boyfriend?”   
“Yes,” Harry confirmed.

Sirius smiled again, big and proud. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. I’m glad you told me. Boyfriends are great. I’ve had one or two.” For some reason, that information didn’t surprise Harry. “Why are you keeping it a secret? Is it because you’re both boys?” Sirius asked, genuinely concerned.

Harry shook his head. He shut his eyes tightly as he mustered the courage to explain his and Draco’s relationship fully. 

“No,” Harry answered. “Or, well, partly, I suppose. His parents wouldn’t approve of two boys being together. But, um, beyond that, he’s just not who people would expect me to be with and vice versa. I love him, though, Sirius. I need you to know that. I think you might not approve of him right away, but I promise he’s not the person people think he is. He’s actually kind. Kind and smart and funny and beautiful. And he’s scared. He’s really scared right now. So I need your help to change that.”

As Harry spoke, Sirius’ expression turned back into a frown. His brow was furrowed, and he looked worried. Harry was just glad that he didn’t look angry. At least, not yet.

“It’s Draco,” Harry said. The silence after Harry’s words felt uncomfortable and heavy, so he rushed to continue. “Draco Malfoy. He’s my boyfriend. We’ve been together for longer than a year now. And, Sirius, he’s in danger.”

Sirius sighed. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and beard as he processed. 

“Okay,” Sirius said eventually. “Well, Harry, I’ll be honest, that is a lot to take in. Even I didn’t see that coming. Shit. Should I have? You haven’t complained about the kid in so long, and then you did ask me about him and his mother a few times last year. Was that a hint? Was I meant to catch on?”

“No,” Harry replied instantly. “No, absolutely not. Draco didn’t want anyone to know, and I wouldn’t try to drop hints to you and undermine him.”   
“So Draco knows you’re telling me this now?” Sirius asked for clarification.   
“Yes.”   
“Because he’s in trouble? He’s in trouble… with Voldemort?”

Harry only nodded in response. 

“I’m going to need a drink,” Sirius said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you Like it so far ? I'm trying to follow the books pretty closely but maybe I should make it even more far off from canon ?? idk

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think :)  
> I really like canon divergence AUs but I feel like I've read all the good ones so this is me doing that thing where you write what you would want to read


End file.
